


cocaine doll

by cowboyflesh (cowboymeat), lambchops (lambmeat)



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Prostitution, Soft sex, Trans Male V (Cyberpunk 2077), Unrequited Crush, paid sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 10:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30037338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboymeat/pseuds/cowboyflesh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambmeat/pseuds/lambchops
Summary: “I’m paying for your company,” Takemura says simply.V takes an embarrassingly long time to process the innuendo. Heat quickly rises to his cheeks as soon as the puzzle piece falls into place, stuttering through the wave of embarrassment. Even with the implication, V is rooted to the spot. Staring down shotgun barrels and standing on the receiving end of a grenade’s arc holds nothing in comparison to this.“I’m not a… a doll. I…”“Said you needed to be paid to do anything that isn’t robbing and killing.”
Relationships: Goro Takemura/V
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	cocaine doll

**Author's Note:**

> cw: cock, cunt, folds, hole, heat used for V

Arasaka guard dog once, maybe. Now Takemura is nothing more than a kicked stray, flinching from humane hands and kind gestures. Kicked and whipped into obedience, then scorned to the streets. It has left a tarnished print on him and his view on the simplest actions.

Buying him food was out of the question, seeing as he had an opinion— and some particularly scathing ones— on every street vendor in Night City. And offering to take him places to get his mind off the impending trial of his late-boss is out of the question, seeing as he is paranoid of Arasaka hunting him down no matter how secure the location.

Really, the only thing V  _ can _ do is offer is company. Something is better than nothing, even if it’s sitting beneath one of the city’s many freeway bridges and not talking. Separated by some feet, as if Takemura is expecting V to suddenly swing into the opposition and strike him down.

The older man leans against the railing, hands folded into each other as he stares out at the dusk-saturated river. Watching the city lights twinkle across the water in lieu of constellations long-forgotten and ads that have come to replace the gods.

V looks the opposite way. Elbows braced against the railing as he texts one of his fixers. Eyes flickering to-and-fro as he types in the visual HUD. Idly drags from his cigarette.

They hadn’t spoken in a good fifteen minutes or so. Simply soaking in the other’s presence like two cats in the same room. It makes V spook like one, shoulders jumping and breath hitching as he’s startled out of typing at Goro’s words.

“Why are you here, V?”

V blinks as the HUD flickers from his vision, turning to face Takemura. He’s still looking out at the city skyline, idly tracking the ads trailing into the sky. The question dumbfounds V, scowling at the oddity of it.

“Uh…” V starts, floundering.

What was he even supposed to say to that? What did Takemura  _ want _ him to say?

“It is not like you have the time to simply stand around,” the cyberninja remarks dryly. Self-deprecating.

“Everyone needs to relax sometimes,” V says gruffly. Crossed between defensive and confused.

“Relax,” Takemura parrots rhetorically.

“Anythin’ that isn’t… getting paid to fuckin’ kill someone and rob someone else blind,” V huffs. He crosses his arms and turns back to his messages. It seems that his response is enough to satiate the other man for a while, or at least for another five minutes. Enough time to finish what he was discussing with Regina and begin a new thread with Wakako.

A sudden direct deposit gets wired to him just as he’s about to hit send. Eyes jumping to the notification, his eyebrows raise in disbelief. A solid ten-thousand eddies hit his account.

“What the…” he mumbles, frowning. Generally not one to accept delayed transfers and a stickler for making sure his due payment is ready to be wired the moment the job is completed, he doesn’t remember cutting a late deal with one of his recent clients.

Certainly doesn’t think he won off a scratch ticket.

“For your company,” Takemura says simply. V turns to him sharply, bewildered.

“Goro, I can’t take this,” V says, quiet in his confusion. “You don’t have to  _ pay me _ to hang out.”

Takemura is quiet for a long moment. Searching V’s face for what feels like an hour. The slightest narrowing of his eyes as his lips set, pursing as if he wants to say what’s on his mind. He decides against it for something more tact.

“I’m paying for your company.”

V takes an embarrassingly long time to process the innuendo. Heat quickly rises to his cheeks as soon as the puzzle piece falls into place, stuttering through the wave of embarrassment.

“M-my  _ what?” _

He isn’t humored with a response. Bodily facing the gray fox, he desperately searches for the humor, the odd enjoyment Goro is deriving from the merc’s flustering. He doesn’t find any trace of humor. Only professional seriousness, as usual.

“I’m not a… a  _ doll. _ I…”

“Paid to do anything that isn’t robbing and killing.” It is repeated back to him so matter-of-factly, the meaning behind his words being misconstrued and misrepresenting him. Makes him wince. Probably should’ve phrased it better for the painfully literal man.

Even with the implication, V is rooted to the spot. Staring down shotgun barrels and standing on the receiving end of a grenade’s arc holds nothing in comparison to this. 

Would be dead dishonesty if he tried to back out claiming he didn’t see Takemura that way— too many deep philosophical discussions and heart-to-hearts over the detested street food that Goro is eager to turn his nose up at for there not to be that chemistry lying latent between them. Too many tipsy fantasies of choice encounters with the agent in the privacy of his apartment, much to Silverhand’s distaste. 

The transfer seems to have even shaken the engram into interested silence as he catches the plotline himself. Nowhere to be seen or heard, V’s head feels about ten pounds lighter and emptier than it’s been since he got a bullet lodged in it. Doesn’t even have any choice names to lob at V for entertaining the idea of fucking an Arasaka dog for some scratch. 

V almost doesn’t notice as Goro traverses his continental buffer of personal space, not until the calculated click of his dress shoes shifts back into focus. His breath hitches as he’s hit with a wall of Takemura’s body heat. 

There’s still space between them, but there may as well be none. Always kept at an arm's length, it’s easy to imagine he has no body heat at all, forgone for a body of chrome and a circulatory system of coolant. The heat is almost choking in its intensity. 

“Goro, I…” V trails, words tangled at the back of his throat as he tries to wrestle through them. The dull glow of the ex-bodyguard’s optics pierce him. For a moment, feels more like he’s in an operating room than being solicited for his ‘company.’

Unable to meet Takemura’s eyes, wresting away from their burning intensity, he takes a deep breath. 

“Okay,” V finally murmurs. Typically gruff and stern, his tone is a far cry from his public bravado. Soft, almost demure. 

The older man takes the hushed permission and immediate initiative. A broad palm is petting the slight swell of his pec over his t-shirt within a moment. Just the most basic form of contact stutters V’s breath, cheeks burning as he continues to look off to the side. 

Walked backward without struggle, V is pressed flush to the riverside guard rail in Takemura’s bid to explore his body. An appraising hum reverberates through the cybernetics of his artificial throat as he sweeps down V’s sides and back up to his ribcage. 

Felt like he was a prized heifer on auction, being inspected and valued. A piece of meat, not another soul. Dehumanizing. Makes his stomach twist up in knots of confused arousal.

Doesn’t know how to act. He’s never… done  _ this.  _ Has never been contracted for sex work, and the closest experience he can apply to this situation is Evelyn’s BD. It seemed so natural for her to allow roughened hands to sweep over sensitive skin without compassion, to be consumed without being savored. 

A thigh wedges between his own, coaxing him to spread his legs and allow the other man closer. Takemura watches between their bodies, the way V’s hips roll in meek, nervous motions. 

It’s endearing, how the merc is really trying to act like a professional, like an experienced joytoy. The shy, uncertain demeanor is… cute. The inexperience makes it all the more alluring, like a sweet server bumbling through their first day on the floor. Jittering words and an awkward blush, out of their element. 

A more memorable service than the same act of every joytoy in Night City, and far more enjoyable. 

The railing isn’t as forgiving as V might hope, try as he might to ignore the cold dig of steel into his spine. 

The meeting of their lips is as tender as it is clumsy, all trembling and tentative firmness as they both grow used to the previously-forbidden warmth. The tentative connection is broken and V sharply inhales as Goro’s hand comes to rest firmly against the heat of V’s cock. 

Already filling out in his ever-present pressed slacks, V can feel the increasingly taught fabric strain as he rests his free hand against Goro’s thigh. Takes the other man’s lead as he grinds his palm against his growing erection. 

Direct as ever. He gropes V through the front of his jeans, working out the shape of him through the multiple layers of fabric until the merc’s knees grow unsteady. A breathless moan escapes him, puffed against Takemura’s lips as they hardly separate.

Returning the favor, V feels the firming outline of the older man’s cock through his slacks. It hardens under his attention and he’s rewarded for his efforts with a sigh against his cheek.

The next time their lips meet, it’s a clash of passion. Takemura overpowers V in his awkward attempt at professionalism, plucking a sweet whimper as he’s forced further against the uncomfortable guard rail. Tongue sweeping over V’s bottom lip, chasing by a nip, he works his way past the merc’s initial hesitation and personal reservations by pouring his arousal down his throat. It’s almost suffocating, how overpowering his sexuality is. Fully encompasses and consumes V, making him feel weak and nigh-lightheaded.

Abruptly, Takemura pulls away just as V starts to reciprocate, having stolen a moment to collect his wits and his composure.

“Get in the van,” Takemura orders. That typical glimmer of antagonism sparks inside him, having a comment at the ready for such a crude command, but the reality of the situation holds his tongue down.

He is, in essence, Takemura’s doll, and dolls don’t offer their opinions.

Dutifully, he follows behind Takemura with his heart hammering away in his chest and his body naturally reacting to the provided stimulation. His mind is still lagging miles behind the situation, still caught up on the sheer amount of eddies thrown at him for this.

A confused heat blooms in his chest as the van door slides open.  _ I’m worth that much?  _ It’s not much in the grand scheme of Night City’s sex worker economy, with high-end dolls running into the hundreds of thousands of eddies, but for a Heywood-born merc? Ten-thousand eddies is a wistful payout for corporate assassinations.

The back of the van is fitted comfortably as a portable sleeping area. When it isn’t possible to trust anyone, lest they turn around and alert the proper authorities of your presence, many hotels aren’t an option. A simple van with two mattresses thrown in the back and heaps of comforters and pillows to combat the cold city nights offer a secure alternative.

That’s what V rationalizes first before his brain drifts to consider the off-chance that this was all in preparation for him. Did he plan this all out?

Takemura holds the door open for him, nodding towards the makeshift nest. V blinks out of his surprised stupor and scrambles to climb in. Picky with his sheets as well, as the blankets are soft against his arms as he rests against the bed and toes off his shoes. Can’t help the curious kneading of the sheets while Takemura follows suit, shutting the doors and removing his dress shoes as well.

Any awkwardness of hurried undressing subsides once V allows himself a glimpse of the ex-bodyguard disrobed at last. Down to his briefs, perhaps to spare himself a scrap of dignity until their foreplay is over. Ever the gentleman, he shifts to help V do the same. 

With Goro about to have a look at him in all of his glory, he allows himself the same privilege. Marvels over the curves and contours of flesh where it melts into scars of recently-removed cyberware. Eyes the subtle ridges where muscle obscures itself in his frame. Not hard on the optics by a longshot. 

In spite of the initially-embarrassing nature of the gig, V finds himself sinking further and further into the murky depths of his complicated feelings for the corpo. Each too-tender brush of skin to slide off his jacket, then his shirt, sets his nerves alight. Setting to work on his numerous belts and chains, V struggles to find his breath even in the relatively spacious cabin of the van. 

“Are you alright, V?” Goro asks, not tearing his gaze from where he wrangles a particularly stubborn belt buckle. The rush of cool air against his thighs as his pants are slipped off sweeps any intelligible thought out to sea.

“V?”

“Yeah— yeah,” he stammers. Pulls himself back into orbit with the help of Takemura’s palm against the growing pool of slick in his boxers. “I’m good.”

“I know you’re good. Are you okay?”

Nets him an amused chuckle from V. “I’m okay.”

Goro shares a sage nod. The glow of his optics make his wandering gaze obvious as he seemingly drinks in the frame of the smaller man nested in the sheets. What he’s doing for certain, V will never know. Has no clue what an acceptable amount of admiration is in this situation before it crosses over the boundaries of paid affection— or whether it’s admiration at all. 

Takemura captures his lips again once V is stripped bare, one firm hand coming up to cup his cheek while the other works his cock. Where the touches are too tentative at first, the corpo catches on easily to the precise pressure and tempo that sends shocks of pleasure up V’s spine. Occasionally dips his fingers to tease at his hole if only to collect slick and continue jerking him off. 

That for certain isn’t normal; the merc had seen plenty of BDs and heard joytoy horror stories in his time— never had the recipient’s pleasure ever been a point of worry for their John. Though, he supposes Takemura doesn’t care for those norms at all. Wants what he wants. 

On one pass, his fingers hesitate. Tips barely dipping into his hole as if contemplating. The hesitation makes V’s brows furrow, breaking their kiss to pull back and level Takemura with a look. Tries to figure out what the snag is, eyes roving over Goro’s intensely stoic face— the only smear of differing emotion from his norm being the blush reaching his ears.

It clicks as Takemura ducks back in for a chaste kiss. Tentative, evaluating the temperature of the water. Wants to do good by V, even if he is a purchased body in the moment and not a gig partner and his only friend in Night City.

It takes a moment to get his tongue to work, struggling to string his scrambled thoughts into a coherent sentence. The inherent embarrassment he is still battling with, at the notion of being bought and used like a joytoy— and by an ex-Arasaka bodyguard, at that— makes his throat lock up around the words.

“Use me,” V manages to say, breaking from Takemura’s lips to whisper it. “I’m… I’m yours, tonight.”

It seems to settle something, a crooked piece of confidence that wasn’t quite clicking until he said that. A bated breath leaves his lungs as if he were waiting for explicit permission, having been holding himself back.

A strong hand comes to adjust his body to his liking; grabbing his thighs and hitching them side-saddle over his own. He’s braced down on an elbow beside V’s head, comfortable on his side as he explores V’s body. 

Not as tepid in his contact as he was before, life-worn fingers push into him, eliciting a soft gasp. Gently curls the two digits inside of him, searching and finding that spot that makes his back arch weakly off the comforter. Not preparing him, but taking his time to pleasure him.

Creates an oddly intimate atmosphere about them. Thought joytoys were compassionless strangers, one-night stands, mere  _ tools  _ for pleasure. The level of comfort and secure heat between them makes it feel more domestic than what V’s comfortable with. Happier feeling debased, really, the bloom of warmth in his chest making him squirm.

“Nh… not gonna break me,” V puffs, trying to goad the older man into falling into that emotionless chase for his own end. Wants to be used, not… cared for, worshipped.

Feels the need to remind him: “Jus’ a joytoy.”

Takemura pauses. Glowing gray eyes flicker between his own, narrowing just the slightest. Then he’s fucking a third finger into V, rougher. Garners a proper gasp this time, the stretch making his eyes flutter shut.

Somehow, even with the rougher intrusion, the older manages to weave a hint of tenderness into it. Apparently, his well-guarded affection for V is inseparable even under the pretense of paid sex, and despite the added stretch, the ridges of his knuckles pay special attention to wring pleasure from the other. 

The stimulation isn’t enough to get the merc riding the ripples up to his climax, but the steady puff of breath against his bare skin and the occasional throb of Goro’s cock as he exercises his self-control give him the extra push he needs. It’s unnecessary; V’s well-acquainted with bad lays—but he takes it upon himself to go the extra mile. 

“You aren’t  _ just a joytoy _ to me.”

Deadpan delivery mutes the impact of the words if only until V can properly interpret the admission of his feelings. Brutal overwriting of his willpower marrs each and every one of the ex-corpo’s mannerisms, but he’s easy enough to interpret given the chance. 

Leave it to him to make prostitution romantic. 

An added finger stretches him further. V furrows his brow until the pressure dilutes from pain into contentedness, spreads his legs further just to grant him the extra depth. 

V bites back the natural next question:  _ What am I, then? _ He isn’t sure if Goro himself even knows—whether it’s fear of wandering down the wrong corridor in the labyrinth of his emotions, or if he’s just unwilling to let V in on his inner workings. 

The fingers draw out too soon, with V up to the point of rolling his hips along with each push in as sparks tickle his spine. Closer than he’d like to admit after only being treated to a handjob. 

Goro slides between the merc’s legs with practiced ease. His breath hitches as Goro’s hand sinks, working his own cock in slow pumps as his gaze flicks down between V’s legs. Naturally, his eyes follow the movement of his fist, and he’s pleasantly surprised—the ex-corpo is well-groomed, endowed enough that he’s got nothing to sniff at. 

Takes everything in his power not to bite something out;  _ you paid for one, now use me like one.  _ Doesn’t want to sour the relatively gentle haze that has fallen over them, even if it’s shrouded in first-time nervousness and unspoken, repressed emotion.

Hell of a first date, if that was what Goro was gettin’ at.

Splaying his legs, V goads the ex-bodyguard into rutting against him. The length of Takemura’s cock presses between his folds, catching slick and wetting himself with it. An airy sigh escapes him as his movements gain confidence, sinking into the motions with his eyes fluttering shut and his hands gripping V’s thighs a little tighter.

The tip occasionally catches against the merc’s cock, granting him delicious friction that only heightens his arousal. Rolling his hips into the grinding, he openly pants at each pass over his hole and each bump against the short length of his cock.

Deeming him slick enough, Takemura doesn’t announce his motives before he’s gripping the base of his length and feeding his cock into V’s tight heat. It elicits a sharp noise, body locking as he stills for the initial penetration. Despite the ample preparation, the residual burn deep inside of him as Takemura bottoms out still draws the breath out of his lungs.

Gentle, as if V were fragile, the older man draws out and pushes back in. Rocks the body beneath him with each stroke, tugging his hips down onto him the amplify the ache where he reaches deepest.

The van is filled with quiet noises; moans and little whines whenever Takemura angles just right, accompanied by soft breaths of exertion and pleasure from the stoic corpo. 

Domestic. That’s all V can possibly call this, desperately scrambling for any other word and emotion to tack onto this. Not his forte, not when he prefers it quick and dirty, liable to leave a limp and enough to make him swear and spit insults. Not his type entirely, as it makes him feel uncomfortably perceived and exposed in ways that dehumanizing sex doesn’t.

Takemura seems content with it, face slack as he simply revels in the warmth of V’s gripping cunt and company. Enjoys the small noises he garners as he shifts and angles to catch his sweet spot on each upstroke.

The gentle creak of the van’s suspension protesting the movement gradually grows faster, more plaintiff as Takemura finds his stride. His gaze trails along the curves of V’s body, hands finding their home against his ribs as they mussy the bedding. Gently guiding him back into each thrust. 

As Takemura inclines his head, devoting his stamina to wringing groans and gasps from V, a few stray hairs fall from his ponytail. It’s just about the most disheveled he’d ever seen him, all pressed-suits and strict grooming. A rare glimpse of the man beneath the mask he presents himself with. 

“Good,” he praises, eyes sliding closed as each of them sink into their own easy fog. The mildest swipe of his thumb against the merc’s bare skin is electrifying, staggering him more effectively than any rough treatment he could have been doled. 

The pace forces him to feel the full brunt of Goro’s endowment as it stretches and fills him, comfortable—perfect, even. As he slides in to the hilt, an embarrassingly soft moan tumbles from V’s lips. Makes him sound more like a blushing virgin than an escort. 

His response is a rumbling from within Takemura’s chest, like a purr emanating from a place of deep contentment and satisfaction. The little appraisal and encouragement go a long way as it coaxes more of the sweeter sounds out of V, until he’s not dropping his voice and huffing out each breath. 

Drawing his legs up nearly to his chest, he silently urges the older man into properly using him. Catches the flittering of his haloing pupils slipping between his legs to watch the way his cock stretches V’s hole and drags slick out with each stroke. 

Doing so knocks Goro’s hands loose, stealing away the comfort of holding the merc’s body as he uses him. A disconcerted pinch appears between his brows as he hesitates as to where his hands should settle instead, where they  _ could _ as he’s forever mindful of V’s autonomous preferences before he figures it out. 

Collecting his legs, never faltering in rhythm for a second, he shifts his thighs together to one side of his body. Hooked over his forearm, palm cupping his knees, his other hand regains leverage on top of the thigh closest to him. 

V flushes down to his chest as a short  _ yip  _ escapes, eyes fluttering shut in mortification at the silly sound that spawned from their new configuration pulling Takemura even deeper. The heavy pat of their thighs meeting and the obnoxious volume of slick V was expelling was more noticeable than the groan of the van’s suspension, but no louder than his heartbeat in his ears. 

Slow, but decently hard. Made sure to use every last inch he had to offer, and made sure V felt it in his core. One particularly rough, off-kilter buck ripped a surprised swear from V, then another as Takemura leaned into it. Played it by ear, analyzing every microexpression and each little breath and airy noise to discern what the merc liked most. 

Fisting the comforter, V lets his head tip back into the plush bedding. Content to be used, if being used meant sickeningly-sweet, slow sex. 

Could get used to this. 

The slow coil of arousal in his belly was gradually tightening like a wire pulled taut, cords being knotted, ready to snap. Carefully, tugging every end of him into a tangled mess of pleasure. The first shiver ripples through him, indicating just how close he was edging to his end. 

The shiver makes Takemura falter, if only for a moment. Just to ensure his circuits aren’t being fried. 

With a bit more bravery than before, his palms explore the merc’s legs, experimentally squeezing and digging his nails in just enough to wrench gasps from the man beneath him. 

Some of the tension ever-present in his form is released, allowing his curated facade to drop as he sinks into his own pleasure and bares himself to V unwittingly. A few more of his mannerisms make themselves known; the gentle worry of his lower lip as he focuses, soft noises floating in the air as he grows somewhat emboldened. 

His nails drag down the merc’s hips as his thrusts grow less and less coordinated—more a mindless delve into V’s cunt than anything practiced and routine. His hands find a home at the juts of his hip bones, using the extra leverage as he leans over V. 

“Inside?” he asks, much direr in tone than V had heard him, even under gunfire. Focused on the climax tightening and twisting in his belly, it takes a moment for the question to process correctly. 

“Give it to me,” he coaxes. Might as well go the extra mile, for all his trouble. 

Goro gives a single nod, eyes sliding closed as he’s ripped closer and closer to his end. Panting gently, sweat-slicked, he looks downright godly in the dim light offered by a sputtering street lamp. 

He doesn’t make V wait, though he does catch him off-guard— hips stuttering even as V feels him spill deep and hot into his cunt, one of his hands shifts to stroke V’s cock. 

Swearing, V can’t stop the reflexive buck his hips give into the stimulation. Cock flushed and throbbing between Takemura’s fingers, he can’t help the weak moan as his edge is brought to the surface startlingly quick— the slow-burning knot suddenly coming to a boil as the older man works him over.

The desperate rhythm slows to an easy roll, idly milking himself dry inside V as Takemura pours his attention into getting the younger off. Satiated in his own pleasure, and reaping their position to pleasure the merc in a way that he had been only dreaming about until now.

“A-ah— shit,” V manages to eke out. Involuntarily, his legs draw up beside Takemura’s waist as he tries to fight the natural urge to squeeze them shut, only able to resist for a few short seconds before he’s completely washed under the waves of his release. Arching off the bed, he groans like he’s been shot through the gut, drowning out all words as Goro works him through it.

A near-inaudible hum rattles in his cyberware, merely responding to the jerk of V’s cock against his fingers as his body tightens around his length.

A compliment sits on his tongue, quickly swallowing the unwarranted and unnecessary endearment before it can spring past his lips.

With a jolt, V gasps for air and his hand snaps down to Takemura’s wrist. The pleasure straddles the knife’s edge of  _ just right  _ and  _ too much.  _ Stubbornly denying the wordless plea for mercy, Takemura steals two more strokes if just to see the tortured pinch between V’s eyebrows and the flex of his jaw as he bites his tongue against what would be an utterly embarrassing noise.

Finally relenting, stilling but not removing the warmth of his palm over V’s heat, they share the come-down of their releases. Sagging into the sheets, V throws a leg back over and comfortably settles with Takemura’s length nestled deep inside of him. The older man pets the gentle rise of his mound, thumb barely stroking the root of his cock without the threat of overstimulating the man.

“Are you alright?” he asks, words picked carefully and only edging on the side of breathless. It’s clear he could go again, but prioritizes V’s comfort. 

“I’m— I’m good,” the merc grits out, grappling with his body to form a coherent sentence. His fingers shakily stroke over the flat of Goro’s hand. He heaves a sigh to catch his breath, head falling back against the pillow with a huff of finality. 

Takemura takes the hint, only lingering inside of the merc for a few more seconds before pulling out with a soft  _ pop.  _ The noise forces a gentle smile from the stoic ex-corpo. 

“You did good,” he praises. Hesitates before lying alongside V, not sure if his payment covers pillow talk. The merc reassures him by tugging Goro’s arm around his midriff. Sweat-sticky and utterly spent, the contact is excruciatingly intimate. 

“Can I, uh… be honest?”

“Of course, V.”

“I think I’d let you do that even if you didn’t pay me.”

Takemura blinks in surprise, cool composure faltering as he blushes. Out of his element. 

“Ah… I…” he says stutteringly. Doesn’t quite know what to say. It wasn’t that he now regrets the hefty lump sum he handed over— he would have given that up in time if he were allowed to spoil the merc the way he has been wanting to— but the fact that V is validating the burning heat in his chest. 

Lapsing into comfortable, even if awkward, silence, V pets the fine cords of muscle that pop through the skin of Goro’s forearm as his fingers idly stroke his side. Propped up on his palm, the older man looks down at V with uncontrollable fondness. 

Bathed in dim, yellow light from the streetlamps outside, swaddled in mussed sheets, and at ease in his afterglow, he looks heavenly. Picturesque. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Takemura finally hums, drawing V’s eyes back open and onto him. His lip quirks in the corner playfully, and his brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything immediately.

“Just call me, fuckin’ gonk.”

**Author's Note:**

> [lambchop's twitter](https://twitter.com/commanderbait)   
>  [cowboyflesh’s twitter](https://twitter.com/silverdynes)


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